Crossing the Cultivation Realm: Two Souls Coexist

"At that time, I had only unlocked one or two seals. I didn't have much strength to begin with, so I could only rely on selling formation plates to supplement my cultivation resources. And then something like this happened."

Yang Li raised his head again and poured all the remaining wine in the pot into his throat. The spicy taste made him frown slightly.

He shook the empty wine jug and threw it to the ground beside him with a crisp sound.

Suddenly, he grinned, revealing a smile that was not exactly warm, and changed the subject:

"By the way, when I first met you, I think you were also selling formation plates. You bought two, so how are they? Are they useful?"

This sudden question brought Hu Qing and Gu Yang's thoughts back to a long time ago.

At that time, they were weak and eager for power, so they prepared to go to the dangerous Nanliu Secret Realm to try their luck.

In a corner of the bustling market, they met Yang Li, who looked a little down and out and was selling strange array plates.

Looking back now, there may be a deeper meaning behind that seemingly accidental encounter, and those two formation plates did provide considerable help in their subsequent cultivation.

Time flies, and the situations of the three people have changed drastically, which makes people feel emotional.

Yang Li didn't seem to need their answer and continued to speak:

“As for my wound,” he raised his hand and casually pointed at his empty eye socket, “I’m too lazy to recover.

At least you have to put on some pretense in front of your subordinates so you can get more favors from the old man."

Gu Yang was speechless for a moment. It turned out that the miserable state that the young master of the Xin clan had shown before was mostly pretended.

Yang Li lay on his back, looking at the gradually darkening dome in the formation space, which simulated the outside sky. His voice became a little vague:

"This old man has fathered hundreds of children in his lifetime. Some died young, some died on the road to war. Now there are only about twenty left who can still be called 'young masters'. As for me..."

He laughed at himself, "Again, the one with the lowest status among them.

Don't be fooled by the way these men treat me respectfully now. Behind my back, I don't know how they call me trash or a bastard."

He sighed, and that sigh was filled with a deep sense of helplessness:

"There's nothing I can do. Crybabies get candy. Since I've been assigned to do this kind of dirty and tiring work behind enemy lines, I can only play it safe so I can explain myself when I get back."

He lay on the ground, not caring whether Hu Qing and Gu Yang were listening or not, as if he had finally found a safe corner where he could temporarily remove his disguise.

He began to recount his experiences from childhood to adulthood, how he struggled to survive in that huge and cruel family, and how he was cautious in the cruel competition for inheritance.

Gu Yang hugged his knees, and was a little wary at first, but gradually he was attracted by the coldness and loneliness revealed in Yang Li's words. He responded briefly from time to time as if listening to a story.

Hu Qing silently looked at Yang Li's silhouette, which looked a little thin in the dim light. For some reason, he felt an indescribable empathy in his heart.

He suddenly thought that when a person can't help but open his heart because others pay a little attention to him, this may not be true honesty, but comes from the inconsolable loneliness deep in his heart.

At this moment, Yang Li is undoubtedly such a lonely person.

Only in this special space, completely isolated from the outside world and with only the three of them, did he dare to express his long-suppressed sorrow.

At this moment, the sky suddenly turned completely dark, as if it was instantly covered with thick ink.

There was a soft "hiss" sound.

Without warning, a cluster of orange flames ignited on the ground between the three people.

The dancing flames dispelled the thick darkness, and the warm light shone on three faces with different expressions.

Hu Qing and Gu Yang's eyes were drawn to the source of the flames—

That was not ordinary firewood, but a black cube in Yang Li's hand that was quietly floating, constantly rotating, decomposing and reassembling.

The object was as deep as the night sky, with an indescribable glow flowing on its surface, emitting an ancient and mysterious aura.

Yang Li seemed to notice the curious looks of the two and explained casually:

"This is my companion artifact. I usually use it to set up formations, and occasionally... I can also use it as a fire starter."

Upon hearing this, Hu Qing and Gu Yang couldn't help but look at each other in amazement.

Is this the background of the young master of the Xin clan?

The things you can easily pick up to light a fire are actually magical tools that ordinary people dream of.

However, the relaxed atmosphere did not last long. Yang Li's expression suddenly changed. He sat up abruptly, his eyes cast sharply towards a certain point in the void, and said in a deep voice:

"The battle has ended in a certain dimension." He paused, lowering his voice with a hint of solemnity, "But it's not the one Ye is in."

The atmosphere was instantly frozen, as if a piece of ice was thrown into a fire that had just begun to warm up.

Hu Qing and Gu Yang's hearts suddenly rose to their throats. They looked at each other and saw worry in each other's eyes.

Hu Qing hurriedly asked, "Can you sense... who died?"

Yang Li shook his head slowly, his face looking extremely serious:

"There's no way to accurately sense it. The formation can only reflect the victory or defeat of the space, but it can't identify who exactly fell."

The space suddenly became completely quiet, leaving only the orange flame swaying gently in the breeze from an unknown source, making a slight crackling sound.

The dancing flames cast varying shades of light on the tense faces of Hu Qing and Gu Yang, illuminating their eyes filled with anxiety and uneasiness.

The unknown outcome of the battle, like a sword hanging over one's head, makes the wait even more torturous.